


99 Problems...

by thefrailtyofgenius



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: (but still a cop), Alternate Universe - Police, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Gen, Midoriya Izuku is a Nerd, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, bnhaxb99bang, slightly OOC for crossover reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrailtyofgenius/pseuds/thefrailtyofgenius
Summary: Izuku Midoriya’s the hottest detective on the scene. Wait, no, not like that. He’s just good at his job and bad at everything else. And as the rest of the precinct can attest, dealing with him is a full-time job.ORUA students aged up and working in the world of Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. Hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic (mentioned), Ashido Mina/Kirishima Eijirou (mentioned), Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya/Yaoyorozu Momo (Mentioned), Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Monoma Neito/Shinsou Hitoshi (mentioned) - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. The Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> my third and final entry for the Boku No Nine Nine mini-bang! art will be linked later as this develops! enjoy!!
> 
> -MH

“Attention.”

In Aizawa Land, “attention” meant “good morning, associates”. Except he never actually _said_ “good morning” because he considered it inane—unless, Izuku assumed, the morning could be specifically and objectively termed a good one. Come to think of it, was there any objective measure of goodness for _anything?_ What does “good” even _mean?_

Whatever, no time for existential crisis right now, back to the captain. When he started with “attention”, it could mean one of two things. One was that he legitimately wanted their attention. Izuku trashed that option immediately. Aizawa usually just said what he wanted to say and then blamed them if they weren’t listening. The second option was that he had some serious—possibly _bad_ —news to impart. Which, come to think of it, didn’t exactly preclude option one. Maybe he wanted their attention _because_ the news he had was serious.

“You’re mumbling again, Midoriya.” Dark eyes bored into his. _Oof._

“Sorry, captain.” That was a callout if he ever heard one. Not that he’d yelled or anything, but Izuku was pretty sure he’d only heard Aizawa raise his voice once in the entire time he’d been at the precinct—and even then it was an oddly fuzzy memory, as if Shouta Aizawa could erase that impression by sheer force of will alone—so that wasn’t the best indicator.

“ _Anyway_ —” Oh man, _prevarication?_ It _must_ be serious. “In light of nearly a year with the precinct, I’d like to take this weekend to conduct an assessment of individual progress.”

In front of him, Uraraka squeaked. “Like a test? _Why_ …se. Very wise.” She laughed nervously.

_Hmmm._

Aizawa nodded. “A ‘self test’, if you will.”

Izuku blew out a breath. Oh, so not serious at all. Wow, Izuku had _really_ misread that one, _damn_. Uraraka did not seem relieved at the “self” part of the test situation, but then, as competent as she was, Ochako Uraraka was her own harshest critic—this must be torture for her.

Izuku raised a hand. “Will this be multiple choice?”

At the back of the room, Izuku could _feel_ Tenya’s disapproval. “You can’t ‘christmas tree’ a self-assessment, Izuku.” Beside him, Shouto snorted and shook his head.

“I can do anything I put my mind to, Sarge! That’s just the kind of can-do attitude we have around here, right, Uraraka?” He turned and pointed at the worried woman.

“Who _am_ I?” Uraraka whispered staring sightlessly at her morning coffee.

Izuku turned past her, undeterred. “Right, Eijirou?”

“Right!” Kirishima cheered, standing with vigor and nearly knocking the table over.

“Attaboy, Eijirou!” Izuku turned back to Aizawa, whose position at the podium had not changed.

“Order will be at your discretion, but I do expect _every_ detective to undergo this assessment. And be aware you will be sharing space with the weekend staff until this is finished—I expect professional behavior at all times. Dismissed.” Without another word, he walked out of the briefing room, immediately disappearing into his office.

***

“I can’t express how eager I am to begin the self-assessments, sir!” Tenya adjusted his glasses and smoothed over his shirt, unable to contain himself. “The squad has made so much progress in the past year, I—I feel like a proud mother hen whose baby chicks have learned to fly.”

“It sounds as if you’re expressing yourself just fine, Sergeant Iida,” Aizawa sighed. “And interesting you chose chickens, considering they’re notoriously _bad_ at flying.”

“Sir, you know what I mea—”

“Enough. Go get Katsuki so we can start this charade.”

***

Shouto glared through the breakroom window out into the bullpen.

“Uh, what’s the death glare for, dude?” Nobody glared better than Shouto. His entire presence screamed “don’t fuck with me” and that was when he was in a _good_ mood. It was hot as hell, but Eijirou didn’t go there anymore.

“I hate the weekend squad. Detective Shinsou leaves cat hair around my desk. It got so bad last Monday it disabled the ‘r’ key on my keyboard.”

Izuku, who’d been contemplating the vending machine with undue consideration and characteristic muttering, turned and smirked. “Definitely explains that email you sent me about a ‘guesome mude’. Thought we’d discovered some kind of new drug until the context hit me.” Not waiting for a response, he bounded out the door straight for Aizawa’s office.

”Good luck, bro! You got this!” Eijirou called after him before turning back to Shouto.

The taller man had not moved from the window, watching narrow-eyed as a tired-looking detective approached his desk. “Shows zero consideration for the rest of the squad. You don’t see _me_ leaving cat hair on things.”

“Oh, you have a cat?” Eijirou asked, curious.

“No. Pets are a financial sinkhole at best.”

 _Okaaaay_. “Look, I doubt Shinsou _means_ to leave the hair…he probably does it everywhere and just sits at your desk the most. People aren’t usually deliberately mean and petty.”

The sidelong glance Shouto shot him was disbelieving, but he said nothing.

Eijirou heaved a sigh. “Sad for you, man. My own desk buddy leaves me cake! We exchange presents occasionally.” He pointed at where Detective Satou was slouched in his chair.

“Shinsou and I only talk to each other when it’s absolutely necessary.” Shouto shrugged, as if that was a normal way to interact with a coworker

Eijirou raced to calm him down. “Why don’t you ask him to be careful about cat hair? Or at least clean it up before he leaves?”

“He denies doing it,” Shouto growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t know why. If I find _any_ evidence that he’s doing it on purpose or is even just being careless, I am going to set him on fire to the point they’ll need to identify him with dental records.”

“Could, ah… could that be why he denies doing it?” Eijirou asked tentatively.

Shouto’s eyebrows wrinkled for a moment before his implacable face smoothed in realization. “Oh. Yeah.” He nodded his agreement. “You could be right. Huh.”

Eijirou gave him a disbelieving smile and sipped his coffee.

***

“Expecting great things, Mother Hen,” Aizawa sat back in his chair and gestured for his most…intuitive detective to enter his office.

Tenya gave him a pleading look over his assessment sheet before turning to Aizawa. “Midoriya requested to go first, which is an indicator that he is taking this seriously.”

Izuku snorted. “Uh, yeah, sure. Definitely not that I want this to be over with so I can move on to other more urgent matters. Not that I consider anything more urgent than the preservation of justice and my civic duty to this city—”

“Midoriya, _go_.” Aizawa leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk to steeple his hands in front of his mouth. His entire demeanor radiated judgement.

“Sure, right, yeah.” He straightened and rattled off, “I have the highest arrest count of everyone in the precinct this year, an 80% clearance rate, even taking into account that one slump, you know the one, and—ooh, this is a big one—I am finally learning how to tie a tie.” He gestured to the wad of red fabric hanging from his neck. “Am I right, gentlemen? Most Improved Player, right here.”

Tenya facepalmed. “Izuku, you’re a good detective, and Most Improved is usually a pity award given to poor performing members of a group…”

“Even better!” Izuku rushed to add, “Since I was already a great detective—” 

“—I said ‘good’.” Tenya crossed his arms.

Izuku ignored the correction. “—my improvement means I am that much greater. Perhaps even...The Greatest?” His green eyes lit up as some fantasy sprinted across his mind. “Current title holder is Sherlock Holmes, so—”

“Hercule Poirot.” Aizawa mused.

“Nancy Drew had them both beat, and she was only a teenager,” Tenya added. They all stared at him. “What? My girls love detective stories, and Nancy did good work! Tenya gives credit where it’s due!”

“Right,” Izuku snickered. “But see, now that I’ve improved from great to greatest, I figure you can probably spot me a bit of money? Think of it as a thank you for all my hard work, my commitment to the grand profession of protecting this city, an homage to not just my own progress but the progress of the city, nay the _country_ as a result of the work of this precinct, and inside that precinct, little ol me, who just needs maybe 4 or 5 hundred grand—”

“Jesus, for _what?_ ” Tenya gasped.

Izuku grimaced. “I need to buy my apartment? I was living at my mom’s old place since it was rent-controlled, but now the building’s going co-op, so I gotta buy it. And as I am currently the most undervalued, underpaid detective in this fair city, I figure a loan wouldn’t be too much trouble. Should we do a check or cash? Cash seems easier, let’s just do cash.”

“Deku, how the hell did you manage to lose Auntie Inko’s apartment?” Katsuki, who’d been sitting in the corner with a notepad and pen, finally straightened in his seat and gave Izuku a hard glare.

“I haven’t lost it yet!” Izuku corrected, before turning back to his superiors. “I just need to finalize this loan before the end of the day…”

Tenya frowned. “Shouldn’t you be asking a bank instead of people from work?”

Izuku chuckled. “Oh yeah, I tried that.” His expression said it had not gone well.

“Idiot, you realize how many memories I have in that place?” Katsuki leaned back, ignoring his notes now in favor of reminiscing. “It’s a _nice_ apartment, too. Wasted on you.”

“That’s right, Kacchan and I spent a lot of time there, exploring and playing by ourselves. Alone. Ya know, because our moms both worked...and we didn’t have fathers…” 

“Midoriya, I am not spotting you half a million dollars just because you had a slightly sad childhood.” Aizawa’s patience was beginning to unravel. Izuku wilted. “Get this solved and come back ready to take this seriously.”

“I’ll help. Auntie’s basically the reason I made it through high school. She made me the ruthless survivor I am today.” Katsuki gave a feral grin.

Tenya had met Izuku’s mother. The woman had the appearance of a cherub, so that description was rather jarring. Also, it’s not like she was dead!

“Cool. C’mon Kacchan.” He grabbed his friend’s arm.

“Just because you’ve been irresponsible enough to need time off work doesn’t mean Katsuki does. He is needed for assessment notes—I don’t know if we can spare him.” Aizawa cut his eyes to the blonde.

Izuku grabbed the “notes”. “All he’s got is ‘extra spicy curry’, ‘Atlantic City’, and ‘creatine’.”

Katsuki snatched back the notebook. “Nah, that’s my travel itinerary for this weekend. Didn’t start the notes yet.”

“Just go,” Aizawa sighed.

***

Something approaching rage or horror tightened Shouto’s mouth as they watched Detective Shinsou stand from Shouto’s chair, take off his jacket, and give the thing a hearty shake, resulting in a plume of fine hair that drifted to settle all over the desk.

There was murder in Shouto’s eyes. Eijirou knew he was three seconds away from an incident that would send him back to therapy for the next three months. “Hey. Shouto. Let’s calm down and think for a second.” He pointed at the hair. “He clearly knows he’s doing it, considering he, uh, shook it out all over your computer.”

“My desk, Kirishima. I put my _feet_ there sometimes.” His expression suggested this was practically a criminal act. And considering all the designer shoes the guy wore, he made a decent point.

“Right, so…” Eijirou drew out the pause for effect. “How about we give him a taste of his own medicine?”

***

“Fuck, I haven’t been _here_ in a hot minute.” Katsuki looked around Izuku’s spacious, no-longer-rent-controlled apartment with naked appreciation. “Can’t believe you fucked up renting this place so bad, Deku.”

“And just like at least half the things you’ve blamed me for in the past ever, Kacchan, this is _not my fault_.”

The blonde snorted. “Right. You don’t just get evicted outta nowhere, fuckwad. You get notices and shit.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, I know nothing.” He dug in the refrigerator and emerged with a pair of frosted bottles. “‘Cept that if I’m about to be homeless, we’re gonna have to do something with these.” He waggled one at Katsuki.

“Oh, so it’s _that_ kind of visit.” Katsuki smirked and unscrewed his bottle, taking a long swig.

“Well, not like you ever come over anymore,” Izuku said, wiping his mouth after his own gulp of beer. “So it’s like a reunion-slash-eviction party! With just the two of us!”

Katsuki tipped his head back and cackled. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve got so many other friends to hang with, loser.” He took a more restrained sip of his drink and looked around the room again. “Fuck, I’ve got so many memories here. Remember when we found the fireworks beneath the stairs?”

Izuku held up a scarred hand. “How could I forget?” He grinned and wiggled a few permanently bent fingers. “What about the time with the lizard and the magnets?”

Katsuki shot forward, hunching at he nearly choked on his mouthful of beer. “My mom almost kicked me out of the house for that, and we _still_ don’t know what happened to the neighbor’s dog.”

Izuku grinned wider. “Cheers, Kacchan.”

Katsuki dutifully clinked his bottle with his friend’s. “Yeah, yeah, cheers. Let’s kill these and get to work.”

***

“Ah!” Tenya smiled as he looked at his clipboard, having taken over the administrative side of the evaluations since it was clear Katsuki wouldn’t be doing it. “Next is Detective—”

“—Uraraka, that’s me, Detective Uraraka, Ochako Uraraka,” Ochako rushed through the door and closed it smartly behind her. “Sorry for interrupting, but I read your lips and realized you were introducing me. So. Here I am!”

Tenya sighed and motioned to the seat in front of the desk. Ochako ignored him, standing with her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “I also read that this evaluation will be a 10-question self-evaluation?”

“For everyone else, yes,” Aizawa finally cut in, holding the woman’s gaze with his own. “But for you, there will only be _one_ question.”

Ochako squeaked. “O-oh. And what is—”

“What do you consider to be your…” Aizawa folded his hands on his desk and hardened his glare at the detective, “…greatest weakness?”

Beside him, Tenya stiffened, glasses flashing as his eyes darted between his boss and his subordinate.

“Easy!” Ochako said, full of momentary false bravado. “Working too hard!”

Aizawa didn’t blink, just tilted his head and twitched an eyebrow.

Ochako’s facade of confidence shattered immediately. “Oh, that wasn’t the right answer.” She shuffled her feet slightly. “Being too thorough? Caring too much?”

Her face lit up. “Oh, got it!” She started backing toward the door. “None of those.” She fumbled at the doorknob behind her. “Something entirely different.” And then she was gone, the captain’s door hanging open to reveal a mostly unphased bullpen.

Aizawa sighed.

***

“Okay, so how are we looking?” Izuku, still slightly buzzed, tipped his head toward Katsuki as he shuffled through various documents at a wobbly card table beside the kitchen.

Katsuki pulled his glasses down and gave Izuku a faux sultry glance. “Sexy, but not like we’re trying too hard.” With an air of nonchalance, he whipped off the glasses entirely, continuing, “Like, sure, we’re trying, but it’s almost effortless.”

Izuku grinned hazily. “Yeah, I knew all that, but I meant, the financial stuff.”

“Yeah, the big thing is you’ve gotta get this fanboy thing under control, idiot.” He gestured around the apartment. “Deku, you’ve got _six_ All Might standees. And I haven’t even been in the spare bedroom.”

“There’s two more in there, in case my guests get lonely when they stay over.”

“Upsetting but not surprising.” Katsuki sighed. “And the figurines?”

“They’ll only increase in value!”

“They’re not even collectible! I’m ashamed to know you. If I didn’t work fifteen feet away from your desk with you constantly in my line of sight I’d be convinced you were a loser shut-in with no friends except your creepy All Might body pillow which I do not want you to confirm the existence of, thanks,” he warned.

“So I need to cut back?”

“We’re long past that. You’re clearly not using your actual brain, idiot. It says here you rented the last All Might movie a dozen times?” He pointed at an invoice. “Did you keep getting interrupted? Was it not obvious enough he was going to win?”

“It’s a good movie!” Izuku collapsed onto his couch. “So you’re saying…?”

“You’re fucked.” Katsuki stood from the little plastic table and stretched. “And you said you didn’t know about it till this morning? That seems super illegal.”

“I guess it’s possible I missed a notice, but I doubt it. Let’s check the mail tub!”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “The _what?_ ”

Horrifyingly, Izuku’s guest bathroom contained a bathtub overflowing with various letters and documents. He skimmed a hand through the top layer, retrieving a few letters and eyeballing the labels before shrugging and tossing them back. “See? It’s impossible to find anything in here.”

Katsuki looked like he was going to implode, then he took a breath and swallowed the scathing retort in favor of examining the room they were in. “Heh. This is a pretty nice bathroom to be going unused, Deku.” Spacious, well-lit, antique brass fixtures, claw-foot tub…

When he said as much, Izuku just shrugged. “Not great for mail storage, though, apparently.”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“A moron who's about to be consigned to live on the streets,” Izuku agreed mournfully. “Unless…” His face scrunched up in thought. “I didn’t want to do this, but I do know _one_ way we can get money.”

“You’d make a decent prostitute,” Katsuki remarked thoughtfully.

“Why are the only compliments I get from you actually insults?” Izuku complained. “And I’d make an _amazing_ prostitute, thank you very much.” He glared at Katsuki’s smirk. “But no, I was talking about this guy I know, Giran. He’s kind skeevy, but he’ll loan money to anybody.”

“So he’s a loan shark,” Katsuki said flatly, unimpressed. “Use your fucking head, idiot—not thinking things through is how you got into this clusterfuck. How the fuck do you manage to catch bad guys on a single brain cell?”

“My brain cells, _plural_ ,” he stressed, causing Katsuki to roll his eyes, “are reserved _solely_ for catching bad guys, Kacchan.”

Katsuki snorted. “Yeah, that explains it.”

“And speaking of thinking things through, _I’m_ not the one who’s been engaged eight times!”

“Never married, though, _Detective_. Game, set, match. Baku- _boom_.”

Izuku snickered. “Lame.”

“Nah, just some gratuitous name-dropping of my dance crew. _BakuBoom_ needs no introduction.”

Izuku shook his head. “Well, I’m not financially solvent enough for a hobby like that, Kacchan. Giran’s my last hope.”

“It’s not a hobby, Deku, it’s a _lifestyle_ , and I still say this is a huge mistake, but let’s go.”

***

“So he’s clearly not using a lint roller or anything to get hair off his clothes, so we’ll just have to help him out.” Eijirou said conspiratorially as he stepped into the break room where Shouto waited.

Shouto sat stiffly on the break room couch. “I do not want to help him. I want him to regret his existence.” Then he caught sight of the bag hanging off Eijirou’s arm. “What’s that?”

Eijirou grinned. “There’s more than one way to help someone, my man.” He held up the bag. “Mina gave me some leftover hair from the salon. I figure we can teach him a lesson that if he’s gonna get hair everywhere, he should use something sticky to remove it.” He dug into the bag and held up one of many bottles of glue he’d brought.

Shouto gave an overly wide, scary grin. “Well, that’s the kind of help I can get behind.”

A few minutes later found them squirting glue and throwing loose hair into Shinsou’s locker. Eijirou had never seen Shouto smile so much. Pity it was in pursuit of revenge.

Trying to inspire a smile that wasn’t petty or vindictive in nature, Eijirou smeared a bit of Elmer’s on his chin and gave himself a little goatee, then stroked it. “Ah, yes, I see you’ve chosen the hair gambit, wise move, young grasshopper.”

Shouto snorted and threw a wad of hair at him. Eijirou snickered and accidentally inhaled a few strands of hair. He coughed in panic. “Ack, gross, gross, gross! Stranger hair in my mouth!”

Shouto just laughed harder as they continued to defile their fellow detective’s locker.

***

“Hey, kiddo. What’s the haps?” A man with grungy, purple-gray hair and tiny tinted glasses perched on his nose leaned over his desk to shake Izuku’s hand.

“Giran! I’ll cut to the chase, I’m looking for a loan. What kind of interest do you charge?” Izuku asked as Katsuki notably stepped back and avoided touching the seated man.

“Ah, I’m wounded you’re not visiting just for my stunning personality, greenbean. I’ll tell ya straight, I’m not a bank. This is my own personal money, so I take a bigger vig. 20 points.”

“‘Vig’, huh? That’s legit.” Izuku looked excited.

“It is the _opposite_ of that, Deku.” Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Well, I don’t need much. Like, $430,000.” Izuku made big ol’ puppy eyes at the grizzled man in the seat before him.

Giran leaned back in his chair and held up his hands. “Whoa there, champ. Let’s take it slow. It’s a personal, even _intimate_ little business I run here. I only do small loans to desperate losers.” He tilted his head and added with a smirk. “And close friends, like you, bud.”

Katsuki could no longer resist slapping Izuku in the back of the head. “Right, I’ll be taking my special needs friend here home. I truly hope you have a terrible day.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku struggled free of his friend’s grip. “Don’t ruin my last chance of keeping my mom’s apartment!” He turned back to Giran, whose sly eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. “What about $20,000?”

Giran grinned. “Ah, two bags of ziti, that I can do.” He reached behind his desk and emerged with two large rolls of bills, bound tightly with a rubber band.

Izuku looked at the ads of cash with wide eyes. “Gah, ‘bags of ziti’? Look, he just has that lying around! Kacchan, this is perfect, get on board!”

“Yeah, _Kacchan_ ,” Giran grinned, revealing slightly yellow teeth. “Get on board.”

***

The door to Aizawa’s office swung open yet again, admitting Ochako once more.

“Okay, sirs, I think I’ve got this now.” She straightened and adjusted her shirt. “This isn’t a job interview, but I was treating it like one—giving a weakness that was actually a strength, kinda like how Tenya says it’s bad how he works out too much.”

Tenya shifted in affront. “We could refrain from involving me in your _self_ -evaluation, Detective Uraraka.” He emphasized “self” pointedly.

Ochako winced. “Right, sorry. But you don’t want that,” she continued, refocusing on Aizawa, “because you value honesty and humility above all else.”

“I also value brevity, Uraraka. Get to the point. What’s your biggest weakness?”

Ochako pulled out a slip of paper and began reading aloud. “I'm too competitive, prone to jealousy, can be ‘kind of intense’, tend to get caught up in tiny details, don't know how to relax, and every now and then, I smoke a cigarette." She hunched in on herself. “Is that what you’re looking for? I’ve got more!” 

“Uraraka—”

“Oh god, ‘Uraraka’ in B flat. You’re disappointed. That wasn’t the right answer.” She said it as if the world was crashing down around her. “Well. Okay. I’m going to head to an undisclosed location and make sure no one is smoking there.”

Once again, she disappeared from the office. Tenya took a moment to glare at his superior before heading out into the bullpen after her.

***

“So when are we doing this?” Shouto eyed the detective sitting at his desk, still spreading cat hair with every move.

“Well, Shinsou normally hits the lockers before he works out, so let’s see when that’ll be.” Eijirou beckoned him to the desk with him.

“Heyyyy, Shinsou,” Eijirou grinned brightly at the tired-looking man. “You’re looking a bit stressed. You hittin the gym today? Might help.”

Shinsou turned away from his computer screen and rubbed his eyes. “Nah, not today. Thanks for worrying about me, though, Kirishima.” He gave Eijirou a weak smile. Oh no. “I’ve just been so tired lately. They diagnosed Fugu with feline leukemia. She’s losing a lot of hair and she’s in so much pain, her meowing keeps me up at night.”

He and Shouto shot each other a look. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, buddy,” Eijirou sympathized, only for Shinsou to continue.

“Yeah, and it’s been so rough not being able to sleep that Neito has been taking sleep medication, a-and I’m worried he’s addicted, but he says he’s fine? So we’re dealing with that. I really love him, but every time this comes up, we just argue. It’s really putting stress on our relationship. I… I don’t know if we’re gonna last.” He gave a hollow laugh. “But at least I can feel useful at work, ya know? And I’ve got friends who worry about me here and all. Thanks for letting me vent, guys.” He wiped his eyes.

The panic in Shouto’s eyes was unprecedented. “Yes. Indeed. I…treasure your friendship, Shinsou. Eijirou, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Eijirou nodded, and after bidding Shinsou a heartfelt goodbye, the two of them scurried back to the break room. _Shit._

***

After striking out with the building’s super, Izuku had started to lose hope. Apparently they’d been sending him notices and voicemails for the last six months? But this was the 21st century, who checked that kind of thing? 

Katsuki had punched him in the arm a little harder than necessary and insisted that there were more apartments in the city, which was certainly hard to dispute. But considering his budget, it was hard to find anything decent—one of the better options had a toilet in the _middle_ of the living room. _“For when you’re full of shit everywhere you go!”_ Katsuki had cackled.

They ended up right back on Izuku’s couch, and now Izuku didn’t even have a buzz or any more options to pursue to brighten his mood. “I’m really gonna be homeless,” he realized. “I’m gonna be a homeless cop. I’m like a made-for-TV movie that I won’t even be able to watch because the TV came with the apartment, and I won’t have either one by the end of the week because I’ll be homeless.”

“Well for one, you could definitely watch it on your phone. Just don’t rent it twelve goddamn times. And two…” Katsuki hesitated, which was entirely unlike him. Izuku raised his head from his hands to look at his friend. “…I could buy this place from you.”

Izuku frowned. “What?”

“Yeah, then you could just rent from me till you found a new place.”

“With what money, Kacchan? Are you selling drugs or something? Should I be worried?” Izuku raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been saving. If there’s one thing the hag taught me, it’s to be self-sufficient. Easy to be thrifty just by cutting your own hair, walk to work, dance for tips, and steal Sero’s lunch every day.” He grinned. “Plus, my own apartment is shit, but it’s _cheap_ shit and I’ve been there for _years_. I’ve actually got money now, and I’m on the market for a better real estate opportunity.”

“A _real estate opportunity?_ Izuku repeated, staring at his friend in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Wake the fuck up, Deku. I could give you an actual fair rent if I was your landlord.”

“My…landlord…” Izuku said faintly. “Kacchan, I saw you scream at a tree the other day for being _too tall_. You drank five beers to my _one_ before 10 am this morning. You have a dance crew called _BakuBoom_ , for chrissakes—you can’t be _anyone’s_ landlord.”

“Heh, you always did look down on me, didn’t you? I may have anger issues, but you’ve got _impulse control_ issues. Not everyone spends on every little thing they want without thinking about the consequences. If you ever rubbed your two brain cells together enough to form a thought that’s not related to police work, you’d realize what a good fucking deal this is for you.”

“Good thing I still have this apartment for another day or two so I can rightfully tell you to _leave_ , Kacchan.” Izuku held open the door. “I don’t need your pity or false confidence. Just go.”

Katsuki scoffed. “You’ve got some serious growing up to do, Deku. Hope it doesn’t bite you in the ass again,” he snarled, slamming the door as he left the apartment.

Alone again in an apartment he was about to lose forever, Izuku felt his eyes begin to burn. “Fuck!”

***

Aizawa was getting tired of having his work interrupted without prior notice. He supposed it was his fault for declaring “open-office” hours for these evaluations, but didn’t _anyone_ here knock? Even Uraraka had been barging in today, and he could usually count on her to be courteous.

To his surprise, he found Tenya escorting two of his detectives in at once. Aizawa rubbed his temples. “You are aware that these are _self_ -evaluations, yes? Why are the two of you here together?”

Kaminari rubbed a soothing hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Sero doesn’t handle pressure well,” he explained. “C’mon, buddy, let’s do this.”

“Uhh,” Sero gulped and looked at Aizawa’s judging face then at Tenya’s encouraging one. “Umm…”

Kaminari released the other man and stepped forward. “Not to brag but Sero and I have a combined total of fourteen arrests!” He jabbed a thumb at his chest proudly. 

“Would’ve been twenty, but fourteen’s good.”

“No, it’s not,” Aizawa replied immediately. “It’s not even ‘good’ for a single detective, much less two of them together.”

Sero made a choking sound, and Kaminari grabbed him again, turning to frown thunderously at his boss. “Well, nobody asked you, did they?”

“Again, _self_ -evaluation.” Aizawa deadpanned.

Kaminari just huffed, tugging Sero to the door. “C’mon, Sero. We don’t need this.” He glared once more at Aizawa before he slammed the door behind him with an angry “Good day, sir!”

***

“Well, at least I was right about using sticky stuff! The dried glue peels the hair right off!” Eijirou skimmed his hand along the inside of Shinsou’s locker, looking for conveniently congealed spots.

“But not all of it’s _dry_ , Eijirou,” Shouto said through gritted teeth, holding up a hand tacky with glue and hair. “And picking at individual wads just spreads it around.”

“Maybe we can blow on it to dry it faster?” Eijirou suggested, leaning forward to put his words into action.

“Ugh.”

“ _What the hell is going on here?_ ”

Eijirou and Shouto jerked guiltily away from the locker to see Captain Aizawa glaring down at them. He was accompanied by a horrified looking Tenya, who took a deep breath and tried, “I’m sure there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, sir.”

“Uhhh,” Eijirou looked to Shouto for help, but the heterochromatic eyes of his partner in crime didn’t so much as blink. “We accidentally dropped all of our glue and loose hair in this locker and now we’re cleaning it out?”

Aizawa seethed. “Hasn’t Detective Shinsou been through enough? I’ve taken a personal interest in his case, since his recent transfer was delayed for nearly a year. You know he was just diagnosed with prostate cancer, right?”

“Of course he was,” Shouto said flatly. 

Eijirou was still focused on the earlier information. A _personal interest?_ Aizawa never did anything _personal_. And come to think of it, this was the most either of them had heard Aizawa speak at once time outside of case briefings. They were in _so much trouble._

“Clean this up. _Now_.” Aizawa’s voice was practically arctic.

“Yes, sir!” But the furious captain was already stalking away, leaving them with their disappointed sergeant.

Tenya shook his head at them. “Honestly, what is wrong with you two?” He put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling, attempting another calming breath. “I’ve lost control of my squad.” He huffed and shook his head again. “I’m gonna go have some orange juice,” he muttered, marching out of the room.

“Tenya loves OJ,” Eijirou whispered as soon as he was out of earshot.

Shouto cracked a grin at him. “You know he never abbreviates it,” he chuckled, redirecting his gaze at the filthy locker. “This was fun, though,” he admitted.

“Yeah,” Eijirou agreed. “It’s been nice just hanging with you, dude. Thought it might be weird after I came out a few months ago.”

“It _was_ weird,” Shouto scooped another mass of sticky hair from the locker. “Not the bisexual part, just that it was, uh, _me_.”

Eijirou smiled. “Dunno why, plenty of people think you’re hot.” He shrugged. “And I’ve got Mina now.”

“Right.” Shouto grimaced scraping glue off of what looked like a windbreaker. They’d have to wash that before Shinsou saw it. “And you guys have a big date tonight, right?”

“Aww, look who’s reaching out!” Eijirou nudged him playfully. “Yeah, we are, and it’s gonna be _epic_. She’s bringing handcuffs and—”

“That’s more than enough information, thanks,” Shouto grimaced.

Eijirou just laughed.

***

“Whoa, you okay?”

Izuku turned from his intense regard of the break room couch to look at Ochako. “Just checking out my new bedroom.” He collapsed onto the couch and sniffed. “Oh, lovely. It smells like donuts and disappointment.”

“What did you expect? Pretty sure that’s the signature scent of police work. Plus, _they_ exist.” Ochako pointed across the bullpen at Kaminari and Sero, who were fighting over a dorito that had gotten stuck in the crack separating their desks. Neither of them could reach it, but both were too stubborn and lazy to actually get up so it was mostly just growling and attempts to jostle the desks.

Izuku smiled fondly. “Always cheers me up.”

Ochako shook her head. “Ugh. So I take it the apartment thing didn’t go well?”

“When did everyone become an adult?” Izuku asked in lieu of answering. “I mean, you at least have the mental stability and fashion sense to _pass_ as an adult, but...”

“Thanks?” Ochako crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

Izuku waved her off, still getting comfortable on the couch. “But get this: Kacchan offered to buy my apartment and become my _landlord_.”

“Izuku…” Ochako looked troubled.

“I know,” he sighed. “He was just trying to help, but we've known each other since we were kids! I got him this job, you know! And he almost turned it down because he thought it was ‘beneath him’—which is fair because it probably is. But just because he’s better than this job doesn’t mean he’s better than _me_. And then I find out he’s been saving up? That he can buy me out and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”

“Izuku…” Her voice held a warning tone.

“I know!” Izuku flailed into a sitting position on the couch and repeated, “I know. I’m being an asshole, and the person I’m really mad at is myself for not living up to my own weird expectations of adulthood. I really messed this up, didn’t I, Ochako?”

Ochako sighed. “Izuku…” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I should just go back and talk to him about it. Thanks for helping me out!” He bounced off the couch, newly determined.

“Didn’t actually say anything, don’t want credit if it goes wrong!” She yelled after him as he headed toward the door.

He paused. “Hmmm, given my track record…yeah, that checks. Good thinking.”

“Oh, wait!” She yelled again, and he paused again in the doorway, giving her a look. “Sorry. Just…what would you say Aizawa thinks is my biggest weakness?”

Izuku frowned. “Why does it matter what Aizawa thinks?” He grinned. “What really matters is what _I_ think your weaknesses are! And man, are there a bunch—too competitive, prone to jealousy, ‘kind of intense’, waaay too detail-oriented,” he lowered his voice, “ _your shame cigarettes_.”

“Oh my god…” She stared at him, horrified.

“But your _biggest_ weakness?” He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a familiar slip of paper. “Not great at throwing out your secret lists,” he teased, tossing the paper at her as he finally left the room.

***

A knock sounded against his door for the first time today despite all his various visitors. Aizawa looked up with red-rimmed eyes and called, “Well, come in then.”

Sergeant Iida stepped inside and politely closed the door behind him then, to Aizawa’s surprise, began closing the blinds, too. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to yell at you, and I don’t want Uraraka to read our lips,” Tenya said firmly as he turned and faced the captain, light glinting ominously off his glasses.

“Excuse me?” Aizawa eyed him over the tops of his own glasses before removing them entirely, placing them carefully on the desk in front of him. “Well?”

“You were completely unfair to my squad today, sir!” Tenya fumed, frustration bleeding into his voice and stiff movements. “Uraraka is one of your best detectives, and all you wanted to do was play mind games with her!”

He began pacing around the office, large frame awkward in the small space. “Kaminari and Sero may only have fourteen arrests this year, but that’s eight more than last year!”

“They only had _six_ arrests last year?” Aizawa’s eyes widened as he shuffled through the papers on his desk.

“I’m not finished!” Tenya announced, drawing his attention back to him as he continued to vent his frustrations. “And I know Izuku can be childish, but he leads the precinct in arrests, and his maturity has improved by leaps and bounds just in the last few months! So I think—”

“ _Sit down_ , Sergeant.” Aizawa cut in, gesturing rather anticlimactically at the chair in front of him. “I think it’s time to do _your_ evaluation.”

Tenya adjusted his tie and sat, fighting to hold Aizawa’s gaze.

“Sergeant Iida, you’re absolutely right. I _have_ been hard on the squad.” Tenya’s shoulders slumped in surprise. Aizawa’s eyes sparked with muted amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re a good leader. And the mere fact that you took it upon yourself to defend them says a lot about the trust you have built between you and the squad. It’s because of that trust and camaraderie that they respect you so much.” He leaned forward and swiped his glasses off the desk, gesturing at Tenya with them. “I could learn a lot from you, and you have every right to feel like a—how did you refer to it this morning?”

“Ah, a proud mother hen, sir.” Tenya flushed slightly.

Aizawa nodded slowly. “ _Proud…mother… hen_.” His mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “ _Exactly_.”

***

Izuku knocked on the door apprehensively. An alarming number of rattling lock sounds emanated from it before it opened and Katsuki appeared before him, garbed in bright gold sweatpants and a shirt with a skull on it. For Katsuki, this outfit was beyond tame, practically wholesome. He must really be hurt.

Katsuki crossed his arms and glared, blocking the doorway. “What do you want, Deku?” He jerked his head back toward his living room. “I’m trying to watch _Footloose_ , which is what I always watch when my friends are being close-minded dicks.”

Not touching that one, Izuku sighed. “I came here to apologize. I was mad at you for being more together than me, and that’s on me, not you. I felt stupid, and I acted out. I’m sorry.”

Katsuki snorted. “Yeah, you _were_ stupid, and you _should_ be sorry.” Izuku rolled his eyes as he continued. “But watching Kevin Bacon free the minds of these backwoods assholes with the power of dance has really reminded me that _I_ have the power to change people’s minds, too. Like with you coming back here to grovel—”

“Not groveling,” Izuku interjected.

“—and beg for my forgiveness, having realized the error of your ways. So I, like a dark angel of the night who sees your sins and lets you live anyway, will also let this slide.”

Izuku waited for a moment to make sure he was done. “Right. Great! And you should totally buy my mom’s apartment.” He threw up his hands to stymy any arguments his melodramatic friend might make. “Not for me! _You_ should live there. All the memories we have there together? Someone in the family should stay there, and god knows I can’t afford to for long.” He grimaced. “Besides, like you said before, it’s a great _real estate opportunity_.” He repeated Katsuki’s earlier word with a mocking twist of his lips.

“Oi, fuck you, Deku! Just for that, I _will_ buy it out from under you!” He hesitated. “But…what the hell are _you_ gonna do then? We couldn’t find an apartment…”

“I’ll live here.” Izuku gestured at the apartment Katsuki was standing in. “I can sublet from you—like you said, rent’s cheap! Plus, I ran the numbers: I can keep paying the same amount I paid for mom’s place to _you_ , and you’ll actually make a bit of money off it. Win-win.”

“It’s a shitty apartment, Deku.” Katsuki looked him up and down dubiously.

Izuku laughed. “And I’m a shitty adult.” He shrugged. “It’s what I get for only just now paying attention to things like…” he made a face, “… _finances_. And hey, maybe I can sell some of my collectibles or something to start making a dent.”

“Doubt it, nerd. But you got yourself a deal.” Katsuki sniffed and held out a hand.

“Ooh, official!” Izuku grinned and shook his friend’s hand, before tugging it in an attempt to initiate a hug. “Now bring it in, Kacchan!”

“Absolutely not.”

***

Aizawa received a second (and hopefully final) knock on his door. “Come in.”

Uraraka walked in, this time leaving the door open behind her. Aizawa raised an eyebrow at her. “Hello, Detective. Is there a reason you’re interrupting me in the middle of a meal?”

“That’s just a jelly pouch, but yes. There is.” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready for my self-evaluation.” Settling into the seat at his gesture, she continued. “I asked Izuku what you thought my greatest weakness might be and he said ‘why does it matter what Aizawa thinks?’”

“Not surprising,” Aizawa said drily. “He has surprising little respect for authority for someone in law enforcement.”

Uraraka nodded absently. “Right, right. But he wasn’t _wrong_. My biggest weakness is caring too much about what people think of me, particularly _you_ , Captain. I even ignored the phrasing and parameters of the question just trying to figure out what you wanted.” She frowned and clenched her fists. “I need to be more confident in my own judgment! So…so…to prove that I’m confident that I’m right, I’m not even gonna ask for your opinion!”

She stood up from the chair and did a little bow before thinking better of it. “Self evaluation over! Enjoy your…meal.” With that, she turned and marched out of his office without looking back, the door snapping shut behind her.

Alone in his office once more, Aizawa picked up his jelly pack, giving it a long look, and with no witnesses there to shock and awe, he _smiled._

***


	2. Sabotage

Izuku was late. Again. For the…fourth time this week? Crap.

It was cool, whatever, there’d be some kind of yelling, which he was totally fine with and not at all living in fear of or anything. Then everything would go back to normal mere minutes later and there wouldn’t be any lingering feelings of guilt for the rest of the day or week. Good, plan made.

“Midoriya.”

Izuku yelped, nearly spilling his coffee. “Good morning, sir!”

Aizawa sighed. “You’re late again.”

Oh god, it was so much worse than he thought it’d be. Was that… _resignation_ in his voice? “Sorry, sir. It’s just been a string of bad luck. First my car was out of gas and I was _positive_ I filled it, then the lights in my building—well, it might’ve been just my apartment, considering the neighboring building’s power seemed like it was doing fine and I heard someone above me showering and who showers in the dark, honestly? And then, well…” He looked down at the zebra-print parachute pants he was sporting this morning. “Obviously these aren’t mine.” They looked like something Katsuki might wear, though. “Somebody stole my clothes out of the dryer, and that on top of not having hot water—”

Aizawa rubbed at his temples. “Enough. This kind of ‘luck’ doesn’t usually follow you, so either get it resolved or come in earlier to compensate. Either way, you’re going to start seeing consequences if you come late again this week.”

Izuku gulped. That was completely understandable, of course. Chronic lateness was irritating at best, and while he was constantly toeing the line between unconventional and unprofessional, even he could admit this streak of tardiness was solidly in the latter category.

He’d do better tomorrow.

***

_The Next Day_

“Ha! Alive, awake, marginally well-dressed, and here a half-hour early for work! Take that, The Universe!” Izuku raised his hands in celebration as he bumped the gate to the bullpen open with his hip. Sweet victory! Who knew it would be this hard to be on-time this stupid week? He grinned as he approached the briefing room, empty save the captain himself, who took off his glasses with a grave expression.

“Midoriya, you failed your drug test.” The smile dropped off Izuku’s face as Aizawa continued. “There were traces of cocaine and methamphetamines found in your urine.”

“ _What?_ ”

***

After recovering from his initial freakout, Izuku had rallied enough to defend himself.

“Come on, captain, this is ridiculous! Do I look like the kind of guy that does drugs?” He gave his best approximation of an angelic look, complete with dimples, freckles, and large watery eyes. Eijirou gave him a thumbs up.

“We both know it’s rarely down to appearance, Midoriya,” Aizawa intoned, deep voice scathing.

“You’re right, it’s down to evidence!” Izuku countered. “And a single drug test is not nearly enough!”

“Yeah,” Eijirou agreed. “Besides, everyone knows those tests aren’t reliable. And any number of people could have tampered with it!”

Izuku perked up. “Exactly! Thanks, Eijirou!” He and Eijirou shared a no-look high five. “The gas, the power and hot water. The _clothes?_ All happening in a single week? Thinking logically, that’s not ‘bad luck’, it’s a _pattern_. Someone’s trying to sabotage me!”

Aizawa nodded consideringly. “And who would want to do that?”

Izuku threw an exasperated look at him. “Uh, someone I put away? I mean, we’re cops, everyone on the wrong side of the law is a suspect.”

“So manly!” Eijirou cheered.

“Right? It has to be sabotage!”

A snort came from beyond Ochako’s desk. “Or you just didn’t pay your bills and only put a quarter-tank of gas in your car because you wanted to spend the rest on gas station jerky,” Shouto snarked, filing his nails as he came for Izuku’s life.

“Wounded, Shouto,” Izuku complained. “And you’re wrong—I buy my jerky online from the world’s most highly-rated premium jerkmasters, and there’s nothing weird about that, so let’s talk about something else!” He squeaked as the tiny smirk on Shouto’s face has widened into something evil-looking. “Besides, I can prove I got a full tank? _Evidence_ , remember?” He retrieved his bright-red-and-blue limited-edition All Might wallet and dug through his receipts, muttering all the while. “Paintball, karate class cancellation fee, convention tickets, _ah!_ ” He waved a slip of paper. “Gas receipt! That proves it! Someone drained my tank!”

Aizawa sighed, seeming to have come to a decision. “Alright, well, I know you don’t do drugs, so maybe there’s something to what you’re saying. I’ll put in an appeal for the drug test now, and let’s get someone on this sabotage theory.” He looked at the remaining detectives in the bullpen.

Immediately Eijirou stood and volunteered, eyes burning fiercely. “If I find the guy—or girl, I don’t judge—that did this to you, Izuku, I’m gonna snap them like a twig and throw away the—“

“I believe you may be too close to this case, Detective Kirishima,” Aizawa interrupted, voice dry.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Eijirou sat back down, suitably chastened.

Aizawa’s gaze swung to the other detectives. “Uraraka, Todoroki: look into it.”

Izuku gave them a thumbs-up even as the captain turned back to him. “Midoriya, for the time being, you are suspended. You’ll need to hand in your badge and gun.”

Izuku wilted for a moment before realizing what an amazing opportunity he had here. “Okay, but can we do it in your office so I can slam them down on your desk and yell, ‘The system stinks!’ before storming out?”

“Technically, you wouldn’t be dealing with me at all,” Aizawa pointed out. “Procedure dictates you hand them in to the equipment room after filling out the accompanying form with Hagakure in inventory.”

“The system stinks,” Izuku grumbled.

***

After Midoriya, Uraraka, and Todoroki had disappeared, Tenya ventured from his desk to check on his remaining detectives. “Ah! Kirishima! Have you made any progress on that extortion case you and Midoriya were working on?”

Eijirou looked up from the folder he’d been poring over and grinned. “Nah, I’m just looking over his notes! My man Izuku is so observant, writing all this analysis stuff! I can’t read it, of course. Even if I could decipher his shorthand, the handwriting itself is completely illegible. Like, smart and carefree at the same time. So manly,” he sighed.

Tenya raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well, without him around, I suspect you could use a bit more manpower, so I’m assigning you a new partner for the case.”

“Oh?” Eijirou brightened.

Tenya cleared his throat. “Well, actually partners, plural.” He gestured across the bullpen to where Kami and Sero were huddled together, one shining a flashlight in the other’s ear as if searching for something lost.

“Oh.” Eijirou grinned weakly. “Uh, it’s really no trouble. I can just work on this myself. I’m pretty close to cracking the code to Izuku’s handwriting, so—” He swallowed and cut himself off when he saw the sergeant shaking his head.

“They’re not bad detectives, Eijirou,” Tenya chastised him.

They watched as Kaminari prodded a pair of tweezers where he’d been pointing the flashlight, causing Sero to flinch.

Tenya sighed. “They’re all we’ve got.”

***

As if partnering Kami and Sero with the detective that least deserved it wasn’t enough to make Tenya feel rotten, he came to a horrifying realization as he ran through his desk calendar the next day.

“Katsuki’s show was last night.”

He was standing in the captain’s office, gripping the show flyer, a bright orange sheet emblazoned with cartoon explosions and capital letters. Aizawa looked up from his laptop blankly before registering the dismay on his sergeant’s face.

“Ah yes, the Hustle-puff dance-off extravaganza,” he recalled, not even blinking at the odd combination of words that had just come out of his mouth. “I’ve been so preoccupied with Midoriya’s drug test, it completely slipped my mind.”

Tenya nodded. “Me, too. And after much ethical debate on the subject, I decided it would be best not to admit to missing it.” He mournfully recalled the fiery receptionist’s excitement over the event, cursing himself for not showing up. “Katsuki deserves our support, not our absence.” He met Aizawa’s eyes seriously. “So I told him we were there.”

Aizawa looked almost impressed. “You lied to him?”

Tenya gulped, thinking of all the ridiculously-named dance moves Katsuki had cited and how he hadn’t even hesitated to declare a favorite, even going so far as to rate different moves. “Like a pro,” he admitted. Then he rallied. “But it was the right thing to do! He really wanted us to be there, and finding out we weren’t would hurt his feelings!” Not to mention, offending Katsuki Bakugou benefitted no one and had a high probability of resulting in property damage or bodily injury.

Aizawa read the wariness on his face perfectly. “Regardless, I’d rather you not speak for me, especially if it involves deception like this. I’m not above lying when it’s important, but that is my decision to make. I maintain a strict code of integrity.”

Tenya eyed his superior dubiously, recalling the numerous “logical ruses” Aizawa had used to kick off training when he had first taken charge of the precinct. “Right. So making someone feel better isn’t important?”

Aizawa gave him a flat glare. “Is his safety at risk?”

“ _Ours_ might be,” Tenya muttered under his breath before saying out loud. “So someone has to be in danger for a lie to be justified? What about Santa Claus? Easter Bunny? Where the family pet disappeared to?”

“Those are all about children.” Aizawa waved him off, as if involving children was “cheating” or something.

Tenya took off his glasses and polished them on his shirt, looking anywhere but at his boss. Once they were back on, he squinted at the recalcitrant man before him, then gave a sigh of resignation. “You’re going to throw me under the bus, aren’t you?”

“If asked, I will not lie,” Aizawa confirmed, tired eyes bored through him. “You did this to yourself, Sergeant Iida, remember that.”

***

“…okay, yeah. Pretty sure that’s everyone.” Izuku looked over the list of possible sabotage suspects, consisting of perps, people he’d testified against, and a few neighbors who’d disagreed with his beginner guitar skills.

“Why do so many people hate you?” Shouto asked, flipping the page on the document Izuku had just given them, Ochako looking over his shoulder at the list with interest.

“Heh, live large and fuck the haters, amiright?” Izuku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “But no, really, we’re in law enforcement. You guys would probably have a list just as long, right?”

“I got a thank you note from someone I arrested last year,” Uraraka chirped happily.

“I try not to leave witnesses.” Shouto shrugged.

“Terrifying, thanks, Sho.” Izuku gave a strained laugh. “But anyway, do you guys have any leads yet?”

“Unfortunately, we have to verify that you did, in fact, pay your bills first,” Ochako gestured to the large stack of papers on the table in front of them.

“Really?” Izuku gaped at them. “Guys, we’ve been through this! This is not my fault! I’m being sabotaged by some guy!” He paused. “Or girl. You know, monsters can be women, too.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow. “Very progressive. Kirishima’s rubbing off on you.” He shook his head and moved a folder from one pile to another. “Look, of course we’re on your side, but you’ve gotta admit, you’re not the most responsible person. We have to do our job.”

“Due process and all,” Uraraka added with a helpless shrug.

Izuku blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. “Fine, you can see my bank statements. But I always pay my bills! Usually on time. One time in person with coins!”

Shouto looked amused, but Ochako just looked horrified. “Please just go. I’m starting to worry your inability to adult is contagious, and I don’t need that in my life.” She made a show of examining the folder closest to her.

Izuku rolled his eyes. “Aaaand speaking of things nobody wants in their lives, urinalysis is next, right? A trip to the ol’ pee factory?”

Ochako scrunched up her nose, abandoning all pretense of ignoring him, but Shouto answered first. “You’re suspended, Izuku. Like Uraraka said, _go home_.” He tilted his head, considering. “Have a drink, set something on fire. Always works for me.”

“ _Or_ ,” Ochako jumped in hastily, “you could take in the sights of this wonderful city! Do the things you‘ve always wanted to do but never have time for! There’s an exhibit in the museum downtown I’ve been dying to visit. It’s about the design and evolution of stationery!”

Izuku _did_ love his notebooks, but it was the principle of the thing. “The only thing I _want_ to do is clear my name, _Uraraka_.”

“We’ll do that for you,” Shouto said with a hint of exasperation.

“Look, I know I’m not _technically_ supposed to help out while I’m suspended, but rules are made to be broken!”

Ochako looked like she was about to have an aneurysm. “Rules are made to be _followed_ , Izuku. _Nothing_ is made to be broken.”

Challenge accepted. “Uh, piñatas?”

“Glowsticks,” Shouto added.

“Karate boards.”

“Spaghetti when you have a small pot,” Shouto said after a moment of thought..

“And _rules_ ,” Izuku finished. “So why wouldn't I be able to help you guys out? Someone is out to get me, and you guys won’t even throw me a bone?”

“You still can’t come with us.” Shouto glared, a note of finality in his voice.

“Ugh.” Izuku grabbed his jacket. “ _Fine_. Guess I’ll go learn about paper and completely ignore my job.”

“Have fun!” Uraraka called after him.

***

“Shouto? Ochako? Well, who’d’ve guessed I’d run into you two? How the hell have you rascals been?”

“Izuku, it’s been less than two hours,” Shouto said flatly, turning to stare at the shorter man after removing his hand from the door of the building they’d been about to enter.

Izuku waved a dismissive hand. “Any time away from my treasured coworkers is too long, if you ask me,” he made a show of leaning against the brick wall as he talked to them, a mockery of casual posture. “So what are you up to?” His voice carried a leading note.

Ochako rolled her eyes. “Our non-suspended jobs, Midoriya. _You’re_ not supposed to be investigating.”

Izuku shrugged one shoulder, still leaning stiffly against the building. “Who says I was investigating? I’m just taking your advice and seeing the sights of this fair city.”

Shouto’s eyes flitted back to the door before settling again on Izuku. “At the urine and blood analysis labs?”

“Oh totes. Yelp says this is the best urinalysis lab in the city!” He whipped out his phone and leaned in next to them. “Tourist selfie!”

Shouto’s expression did not change, and Ochako had just looked irritated before he snapped the picture. “Hmm, probably not your best,” he murmured, turning the phone to check the screen.

“I think you’ll find you’re wrong about that,” Ochako put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.

Izuku was still staring at the screen. If she was talking about the selfie, she was absolutely right. Despite being surprised and annoyed by the impromptu photo, Ochako still managed to be wearing a coy smile. Her skin even glowed, like that was fair. Izuku just looked manic, but he’d long since accepted that that was how he _always_ looked.

“Damn.” He sighed, but put his phone back in his pocket and rallied. “Well, whatever. Since this is such a prime tourist location, I’m just gonna take a little ‘walking tour’ and enjoy the sights inside while you guys ask some questions.” He tapped his watch. “Now c’mon, time is a’wasting! Oh, and speaking of which, I was waiting here for a good twenty minutes, what took you?”

Shouto looked even less amused than usual, if that was possible. “We had to find the addresses of all 78 people you said might want to hurt you.”

“Right, right, but… was there another stop?” He gave a pointed glance at the steaming paper cups in their hands.

“We got coffee.” Shouto officially looked as if he had checked out of the conversation. Ochako began to look more and more distressed as Izuku continued.

“Not just coffee! I see that foam—those are cappuccinos! You have any idea how long it takes to steam and froth that milk? Valuable time you could have been working on my case! Clearly you both need some help managing your time and this case. Lucky I’m here to—”

“Izuku,” Ochako burst out. “We’re doing what we can, trust me. But having you around is going to slow things down, legally speaking. While I’d _love_ for you to come look at urine with us—and I can’t believe I just said that—you _can’t_. You’re suspended. Go home.” She gave him a wide-eyed, sad look Izuku was completely helpless against, even as she nudged Shouto back into cognizance so he could nod his agreement.

“Ugh, _fine_. I guess if you guys won't help me, I’ll just have to get myself off!” As soon as the words came out, he slapped a hand over his mouth, the light coming back into Shouto’s eyes at the flub. “Context!” Izuku squeaked, turning on his heal and marching away. “You know the context! Nothing wrong with that, walking away now!”

***

“I’ve already argued my case for full-pulp, but _extra_ pulp?” Tenya gave an exaggerated shudder. “That’s just playing god. Let the oranges decide, right?”

The uniformed officer next to him was speechless, but Tenya didn’t have time for that; he’d just noticed Katsuki walking with determination into Aizawa’s office. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” He’d been successful most of the day at keeping him away from the captain and vice versa, but he figured a reckoning was coming sooner or later.

He was just sincerely trying for _later_.

“Ah! Hello!” He said breathlessly, bursting into Aizawa’s office right after Katsuki. “Are you two talking about orange juice as well? I was just relating my concerns about pulp percentage to Officer Shishida. I’d love to continue the discussion. What are your thoughts?” After rattling that diversion off, he took a moment to breathe from his mad dash across the bullpen. He was pretty sure he’d spun one of the lab techs out of his way in his rush. He’d have to find her and apologize later.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Pulp is gross. And nobody talks about orange juice but you. I was just bringing these files to the captain.” He slapped said files onto Aizawa’s desk without looking, fluttering the other papers on the surface and inspiring a roll of his superior’s eyes before they both refocused on Tenya.

“Great!” Tenya half-shouted with false enthusiasm. “Let’s head to my desk to talk about how that went.” Anything to diffuse the situation he could see coming from a mile away.

Sadly, fate had other plans. “Gimme a sec, Glasses, I gotta get the cap’s full take on the show last night.” He finally turned to face Aizawa. “You’re not one to bullshit, so let’s hear it. Any feedback, reactions. declarations of undying love? Wouldn’t be the first time, so don’t be shy.”

As entertaining as the idea of Aizawa confessing his love of dance to Katsuki would be, Tenya knew that’s not what was going to happen. “Ah! I thought it was transcendent!” He rushed to say. “You had the beauty and inspiration of a sunset with the excitement and intensity of an explosion! A masterpiece of motion and grace. It was—”

“Ah ah ah,” Katsuki interrupted. “Fucking poetic, Sarge, but you already gave me your reactions. I’m barking up another tree right now.” He flicked an amused glance to the captain. “See what I fucking mean? Nothing but awe for my genius around here, no reason to hold back.”

Aizawa templed his fingers in front of his face before opting to stand from his seat with a sigh. “Alright, this has to end. Sergeant Iida and I were unable to attend your performance.”

“Oh.” Katsuki took a step back from the desk, mouth curving down into a frown as he looked between the two of them. “But those compliments were so spot on…the explosion thing…”

“Tenya is a practiced liar.”

Tenya glared at his superior for a second before attempting damage control. Unfortunately, Aizawa kept going.

“I’m sorry we missed the show. I know dancing is an important hobby to you.”

“ _Hobby?_ ”

Tenya flinched. _Oh no._

“You think my dancing is a _hobby?_ ”

“Oh, yes,” Aizawa stolidly continued as Tenya watched in horror. “Like me and vintage vinyl collecting. It's…thrilling, but nobody is ever going to pay me for it. Ergo,” he paused, meeting Katsuki’s outraged gaze, “…a hobby.”

“I get paid,” Katsuki hissed like a wounded animal. “In cheers and recognition. In applause.” His eyes darted between his superiors again. “But apparently not from you.” He turned and walked out of the office, a distinct slump to his shoulders.

Aizawa turned to Tenya once Katsuki had disappeared. “I know that maintaining integrity can be difficult, but in the long run, everyone is better for it.”

Tenya gaped at him. Did he think that had gone _well?_ He opened his mouth to refute that statement but was interrupted by a horrid, grinding sound from the bullpen.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Katsuki announced from behind his desk. _Oh no_ , Tenya thought again. “The tragic sound you are hearing is the shredding of my harem pants. You asked for it and you got it: Katsuki Bakugou will never dance again.”

***

“So those threatening phone calls were being made to Jin Bubaigawara of _Jin-O’s Limos_ ,” Eijirou explained for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Hmm,” Sero leaned back in his chair, long fingers steepled in presumed thought. He and Kaminari had both dragged their desk chairs with them when Eijirou had initially proposed a case review. In addition to the chairs came three large bags of chips, seven cans of Monster (the odd number of which Eijirou just knew would be causing a dispute later), and a rubber band ball, for some reason. At first he’d just stared at them, but when all he’d received was them staring right back, unphased, he decided to ignore the eccentricities and move forward. “That’s interesting.”

“What is?” Eijirou eyed the taller man apprehensively, afraid to hope for actual insight.

“That name, Bubaigawara. This guy keeps cropping up in this case.”

Eijirou facepalmed. “Because he’s the _victim_ , Sero.” He took a claming breath and continued. “He’s the guy whose window was smashed with this rock.” He held up the projectile in question. “Okay?” It was impossible to gauge their understanding, considering it really wasn’t all that complex a concept and they’d _looked_ like they’d gotten it so many times before. “He’s being extorted for $10,000.”

Kaminari scoffed. “Sure, but what do they _want_ from him?”

Eijirou was going to have a permanent mark on his forehead from all the facepalming. “$10,000. I literally just said this. We’re trying to figure out who’s doing the threatening.”

The sound of the second chip bag being opened crinkled through the silence as he let that sink in.

“I have a theory,” Sero said, hand digging into the chip bag Kaminari held out to him. “I think ‘limousine’ and ‘magazine’ come from the same word.” He and Kaminari high-fived.

Eijirou lost it for a second. “ _Just focus!_ ” Two pairs of wounded eyes met his, and he sighed again. “Okay, my bad. Sorry for snapping, but let’s keeping going here. I interviewed Bubaigawara—”

“Bubaigawara! There it is again!” Sero crowed.

Eijirou threw his hands in the air. “Okay, you know what? You’re useless to me. No idea what I was thinking, honestly. Love the lack of tension, and your devotion to each other is, like, super manly, but as detectives? I’m just not seeing it. Even that bomb-sniffing dog that humps the bombs does better work. If either you ever actually have something to offer, come find me. For now, I’m going to get some actual work done.”

It was with only a little bit of guilt that he turned from the two seated detectives and walked out the door.

***

“You know your blinker’s been on for nearly a minute.” Shouto sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, still somehow managing to look cool and aloof as he gazed out the window at passing traffic.

Ochako shook her head. “Quit exaggerating, it hasn’t been _that_ long. Besides, it’s better to announce your turns early. This is defensive driving, not NASCAR.”

Shouto snorted, turning to give her a look. “Right, my mistake.” The layers of flat sarcasm in the statement could not be described with words. “Well, whenever you finally change lanes—hopefully sometime today?—we should go talk to Izuku’s super… see if there was a power outage.”

“ _What?_ ” An indignant yell emerged from behind them. Shouto wasted no time in eliminating the threat with a smart jab to the face as Ochako slammed on the brakes, both of them looking in the back seat at… 

“ _Oww_ , shit,” Izuku whined, cupping a hand over his eye. “Why would you _do_ that? I just broke into your car and popped up without warning! Not cool!”

Shouto had not lowered his fist yet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked calmly.

“Ooh, good question!” Izuku perked up, pain in his eye seemingly forgotten. “I _thought_ I was hitching a ride to interrogate some of the perps on my list, but apparently you guys are still wasting time investigating _me_.”

“Hey, it's _your_ fault we have to check up on your power outages,” Shouto finally relaxed his arm, willing to speak with Izuku without the threat of attack lingering over them. “You have _three_ mini-fridges plugged in to the same outlet.”

“Three mini-fridges are cheaper than one regular one! I’m learning how to budget, sue me.”

“Someone _might_ ,” Ochako informed him, matter-of-fact. “And I really thought we resolved this earlier, Izuku. We’re just doing our jobs. Why don’t you trust us?”

“How can I? You didn't even know a possible assailant was lying in the backseat of your car!” He immediately cowed from the venomous glare Shouto shot him. “Plus, while you two were busy…getting coffee and whatever else it is you do… _I’ve_ actually been investigating. I’ll send you some selfies.”

Shouto had turned around, icy gaze boring through the front windshield as he made the same argument he’d been making the whole day. “We're _going_ to get to your list, Izuku. We just have to rule out other possibilities first.” He finally turned around and met Izuku’s mulish eyes. “You know, there is a real chance that no one is after you.”

“Yeah, but I’m telling you that someone _is_. That should be enough.”

“And _we_ told _you_ to trust us,” Ochako countered. “That should be enough.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed. He knew when he’d been outmaneuvered. “Alright, you don’t want my help? Fine. You’re not gonna get it.” He struggled his way out of the back of the car, leaning to the driver’s side window as he took out his phone. “In fact, I’m deleting your numbers.”

“Just let us take you home.” Ochako sighed, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

“See you never!” Izuku whirled away from the car as his colleagues drove off to do some worthless, time-wasting investigation into—wait, shit, where was he? He looked down the street behind him, a nearby jingling tune growing louder and louder as he tried to ascertain his whereabouts. No, wait, it was _really_ loud now, as if—

Izuku dove sideways just in time to avoid being hit by…an ice cream truck? What an ignominious death that would’ve been.

As he stood and shook off the jarring sensation of almost having been run down by the ice cream man, the truck, still jingling enthusiastically, screeched to a stop a few yards away. The engine stopped, finally bringing the music to a halt as the driver climbed out.

“Wait, _Shindo?_ ”

Izuku should have known calling out his ex-girlfriend’s boss’s massive cocaine problem was going to have consequences. Beyond her breaking up with him, of course. Tatami actually made off pretty well from the whole thing, getting Shindo’s position, dumping Izuku, and stealing a few of his sweatshirts. Or maybe he’d just lost them.

Point was, Shindo had been out of a job the moment Izuku arrested him and made the whole thing public. But the guy never saw any prison time, being a rather well-connected lawyer—well, _former_ lawyer—himself. He’d gotten off with something inane, like community service, and Izuku had assumed that was it. He definitely hadn’t thought to put Shindo on his list of suspects.

Yet here he was pointing a gun in Izuku’s face.

***

The sound of plastic wheels grinding against dirty floor tiles crept up on Shouta. Normally this would be a sign that Kami and Sero were on the move, but he actually hadn’t seen them in a few hours. Their desk chairs were empty and they weren’t in the break room; he’d never known them to go anywhere else. Surely they weren’t bold enough to just go home, right?

“Captain Aizawa.”

Shouta looked down to see Katsuki sitting in his rolling desk chair, a dozen feet away from his own desk, holding out a sheaf of paper with a flat expression. “Your CompStat report.”

Shouta took the offered papers and watched as Katsuki sullenly shoved his chair across the floor, not once removing himself from the seat as he rolled into place behind his desk.

Noticing his regard, Katsuki settled himself at the desk and explained, “This is how I move now. Walking is too close to dancing, and nobody around here wants to see that.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Kinda hoping my leg muscles atrophy—wouldn’t wanna be tempted to use them. Don’t mind me.” He grabbed the phone out of its cradled and slammed it onto the desk as he dialed in a number, ignoring Shouta entirely now.

_Dear god._

When he got back to his office, Sergeant Iida as waiting for him. “Still feeling good about your decision to tell him you didn’t go to his show and that his dancing is a hobby?”

“Your sarcasm is noted and disapproved,” Aizawa said drily, settling into his own desk for a moment before getting restless and standing up again. “I don’t get it. Katsuki’s always been so sure of himself. He’s never cared what people say or think about him.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, distraught.

Tenya shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if that’s quite true, sir, but I _do_ know he cares what _you_ think.” He adjusted his glasses. “He as good as said it earlier—he respects your opinion because you don’t, ah, ‘bullshit’ him.”

The grinding of wheels slipped through the doorway as Katsuki rolled past, listlessly collecting paper from the printer outside the office before rolling away again. Silence reigned in the office as Shouta and Tenya watched him retreat to his desk once more.

“Okay, fine, I regret what I said,” he admitted with a glare at his sergeant. “But I have no clue how to make it right with him.”

“Far be it from me to recommend solving a problem with the same method that caused it, but have you considered lying?” Tenya offered.

Shouta gave him a weary glare.

“Look,” Tenya started, “yesterday I told my twins there were baby bunnies in their stomachs to get them to eat lettuce.”

“...and that worked?” There were plenty of acceptable lies to tell children, but this one seemed…unwieldy.

Tenya shrugged a shoulder. “Yes …but then they refused to drink their milk because they thought the bunnies would drown.” He took off his glasses, polishing them on his shirt and avoiding Shouta’s gaze as he continued. “So I bought a couple rabbits and told the girls that they hopped out of their mouths while they slept.”

Yep, definitely unwieldy. He raised an eyebrow. “I've lost track of your point.”

Tenya’s glasses were back on his face. “Well, the lies _did_ work: they ate their lettuce and drank their milk. But now I'm stuck with two bunnies.” His face paled. “Perhaps, I, too, have lost track of the point, sir.”

_Great._

***

“Hey, Kirishima, guess who caught the _Jin-O’s Limos_ perp?” Kaminari’s voice emerged from beside him at his desk.

Eijirou turned to face the duo. “Izuku?” He asked dully. Wait… “Is Izuku back?” He asked excitedly, looking around for his friend.

“No, _we_ did! Kami and Sero!” Sero jabbed a thumb into his chest proudly before retrieving a somewhat wrinkled paper from his coat pocket. “Signed confession, see?”

Eijirou looked disbelievingly at the paper as Sero continued. “You called us useless. You called us incompetent. You called us zeros in the sack.”

“Hold up, I didn’t do that last one.” Eijirou felt bad enough that he _had_ done the first two, though.

“Oh,” Sero deflated. “Well, _someone_ said it to me last night.” He shot a quizzical look at his partner.

Kaminari put his hands up. “Wasn’t me, dude.”

Ignoring the implications of that for now, Eijirou got the conversation back on track. “So how did you do it?”

“Ooh me!” Kaminari volunteered excitedly. “We listened to those voicemails again and noticed the sound of parrots in the background!”

Sero picked up where he left off. “Got a list of employees, did door duty asking neighbors if any of them kept pet birds.”

“Super fun, by the way,” Kaminari added as an aside. “One of the neighbors baked us cookies! I saved one for you, even though you were mean to us.” He began digging in his pocket, presumably looking for the aforementioned cookie.

“I made him,” Sero informed him, as Kaminari finally retrieved a squashed snickerdoodle and tossed it to Eijirou.

“Anyway, we finally found an apartment with a bird, and guess what.” The pause Kaminari left after those words as so long, Eijiro almost thought he was supposed to answer, but then he continued. “The landscaping in front of his building was covered with these.” He reached into a different pocket—how many did he _have?_ —and retrieved something entirely different from a cookie.

“Same type of rock that was thrown through the window,” Sero explained unnecessarily as Eijirou stared at the rock in Kami’s hand, nearly identical to the evidence he’d been holding a few hours ago.

Eijirou looked between the two of them as he clenched a cookie in one hand and the signed confession in the other. “I can't believe it.”

“What, you don't think it could break one?” Kaminari asked, confused. “Watch.” And to Eijirou’s horror, he flung the large rock at the window to the briefing room, which of course shattered instantly. “See?”

Eijirou stared at the blonde in shock. “I meant I can't believe you _solved the case_.” Dear god, just when he thought he was getting somewhere with these two… 

“Oh,” Kami blinked, then grinned. “Well, you were wrong on that, too!” He and Sero high-fived and walked away while Eijirou tried and failed not to have a crisis.

***

“Hello. My name is Izuku Midoriya, and this is my confession.”

This is not what Izuku would like to be doing right now. Not even close.

“I destroyed the good name of an American hero… You Shindo. I framed him for drug possession, I got him fired from his job, and planted incriminating evidence of his supposed Bacchanalian spree through downtown on the night of…”

But Shindo seemed to be visibly high on a number of questionable substances, had a gun, and was determined to pin all of his crimes, flaws, and embarrassments on Izuku.

“Great, now just eighty more confessions to go. You've been very naughty.” Shindo giggled, the sound oddly cute coming from his ominously twisted expression.

“I threatened to blow Mr. Shindo's head off if he didn't quote-unquote ‘really cheap out on his dad's funeral.’ And while he slept, I…”

At this point, his best hope was that someone from the precinct would notice he was missing, but the only sound his phone had made at all since Shindo had tied him up in his stupid truck was an alert for discount takoyaki at a nearby food truck, and try as he might, he could not convince Shindo that that was a threat.

“I am a horrible person who has done horrible things to a truly decent man, which is why I've decided to take my own life.” Izuku had been on autopilot as he recited Shindo’s numerous misdeeds from the cards he was shown, but his eyes widened when he heard those words come out of his mouth. “Wait, _no_ , I didn't decide that,” he amended hastily, struggling against his bonds once more.

“Spoiler alert!” Shindo laughed, looking down at the camera screen as he replaced the last few seconds recorded. Izuku heard his own tinny, digital voice as it announced once more, _“decided to take my own life.”_

“That last take sounded great,” Shindo complimented. “You really brought my words to life.” He paused with a sigh. “You know, I should write more. What a rush!”

He was clearly unhinged.

“Shindo, you don't have to do this,” Izuku cajoled, getting desperate. Whoever taught Shindo how to tie secure bindings clearly hadn’t been fucking around. If he didn’t get this maniac to back off of his threats, he wouldn’t be leaving this truck alive. “Your life's not so bad. Living in an ice cream truck? Never showering? That was my childhood dream.” He gave a nervous laugh.

Shindo caressed the gun fondly, waving it around as he monologued about how good his life used to be and how badly Izuku had wrecked it all. At the very least, Izuku was doing a decent job of stalling the operation.

“Look,” he gulped and met Shindo’s crazed eyes. “I get it. I know what that feels like.”

“You've only lived in an ice cream truck for part of one day! How could you possibly know?” Shindo’s terrifyingly literal interpretation of Izuku’s comment reminded him that logic wasn’t really a factor here. The guy was high off his rocket, hurtling toward violent and idiotic conclusions with unstoppable speed.

Izuku took a slow breath and considered his situation. How he’d pestered Shouto and Ochako both in person and with incessant, jeering selfies of his own unofficial investigations. How even though _they_ were the ones well within their rights to get fed up with him, it’d been Izuku himself who finally rejected their efforts and cut himself off. He sighed. “Well, I know no one's coming to rescue me. I was so concerned with saving myself and my reputation I pushed all my friends away.”

“Wow,” Shindo breathed, staring at him in some weird amalgam of awe and regret. “Sounds like you're having a breakthrough. You should act on this. You still have time to make it right.”

 _Okayyyy. Guess appealing to his scrambled emotions is a valid strategy._ Though really Izuku had just been feeling sorry for himself, and the only one around to listen to him vent about it was a psychotic, drugged-up kidnapper and would-be murderer. Better than nothing, he guessed. Wait, no, definitely not.

The silence between them stretched, Izuku thinking (and unwittingly muttering) about all the things he’d done wrong—as opposed to all the things Shindo had told him to _say_ he’d done wrong, and there was some pretty terrible stuff in there; the guy truly was not a good person—while Shindo himself suddenly seemed to remember his purpose again. “Right, well, this was fun, but I do recall you wanting to take your own life, so we can’t miss out on that.” He brandished the gun once more.

Izuku’s mind raced to find something, _anything_ that would distract or delay his imminent murder. Wait, _murder_. “Shindo, how are you gonna make it look like a suicide if I’m tied up like this?”

Shindo paused. “Nice try, but I’m not gonna untie you. Can’t trust people to kill themselves these days, so I’ll take care of it, then untie you after you’re dead.”

“Right, right,” Izuku nodded frantically. “But you did a great job tying me up! Nice and tight, probably gonna leave some bruises, especially the way I’ve been struggling.” This was logic, which he’d already ascertained wasn’t the best method of dealing ith Shindo in his current state, but appealing to his emotions made Izuku himself all weepy and nearly incapacitated by regret, so really as long as he kept jabbering about _something_ , it seemed like Shindo would continue to respond, thus delaying until…until…

Nope, not thinking about that right now.

“…use it to find you and convict you, man. Evidence doesn’t lie like you do,” Izuku heard his mouth saying. “This doesn’t solve anything for you, nobody’s gonna believe that bullshit confession, even if I’m dead, the only thing that does is give them another nail to hammer into your coffin. I—”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Shindo snarled. “God, you talk too much, I hate it! I can’t _think_ when you do that.” He set down his gun and leaned down to a line of what Izuku was 85% sure was cocaine on the metal cooler beside him. This was the first time since he’d been brought into the truck that Izuku had actually _seen_ the man doing drugs, and it was as much of an opportunity as he was going to get.

“Shindo!” He yelled.

When the man looked up from his bent posture, Izuku headbutted him. He stumbled and yelled, holding his nose and screeching about trust and drug delivery methods, but he’d gotten close enough and had stayed low enough that Izuku could headbutt him again, and he didn’t hesitate. This time, he heard a crack of Shindo’s nose breaking, which he knew was a special kind of pain it was extremely difficult to recover from. Taking this opportunity for all it was worth, he managed to scoot himself back in the chair hard enough to tumble out the back doors of the truck, landing hard on his back.

But still, unfortunately, quite securely tied to the damn chair. He’d _really_ been hoping it would break on impact and give him a bit of wiggle room to escape, but the chair was just as solid and apparently unbreakable as the ropes tied around it.

He attempted to roll himself over to get his legs underneath him, but he didn’t have enough leverage to move himself a single inch. He sighed.

Meanwhile, Shindo had realized his situation and hopped down from the truck beside him, holding a hand to his bloody, throbbing nose and scowling nastily down at him. “Nice try, Izuku. Get up!”

Izuku glared at him. “ _I can't_.” _Obviously._

“Oh. Shit, right. My bad.”

Izuku let his head drop back against the concrete with a dull thud and groaned.

***

A sparkly display adorned the side table in the break room. Shouta sighed. He was only here in the first place because this was the only communal area left that wasn’t occupied or full of glass shards. He refused to let his guilt confine him to his office.

“What's this?” He said, mostly to himself, but he wasn’t surprised hen Katsuki appeared beside him to explain.

“I'm selling my smoke machine, glitter cannon, and folding fans.” He gestured to the colorful items on the table before them. “I would've put my soul on there, but that was shredded along with my harem pants.”

“Katsuki,” Shouta addressed the sullen man seriously. “I understand now that dancing is more than just a hobby for you. It's a profession.”

“Oh, so you're a liar like Sarge now?” Katsuki crossed his arms defensively but refused to break eye contact with him.

“No, I'm no bunny-buying coward.” Somewhere, he was sure, Tenya was feeling affronted and didn’t know why. “You _are_ a professional dancer…because I'm paying _BakuBoom_ to perform two shows at our at-risk youth program.” He offered her the envelope he’d prepared earlier. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Captain.” Katsuki took the envelope with a wide grin. “You just made me the happiest, sexiest, most talented guy in the world. This is the best $8,000 you ever spent.”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “It's $200.”

He shrugged indolently. “I'm sure you're good for the rest.” He turned back to the rest of the bullpen. “Ya hear that, extras? Captain loves my dancing!”

Shouta watched the man parade through the precinct with fond amusement. As he turned back to the bullpen, he caught Tenya’s eye and shared a nod with him. Shouta wasn’t sure what lesson he should have learned from all this, but it was good to see everyone happy for once.

***

“This is why you’re alone, Izuku.”

Izuku winced. At least he wasn't being manhandled back into the truck anymore. Shindo didn’t look like much—in fact, Izuku had been trying to avoid the fact that he and Shindo seemed to have a lot in common, face- and body-wise, to say nothing of their general mania and obsessive tendencies—but he’d managed to get Izuku back into the damn ice cream truck with relatively minimal struggle.

“We were bonding,” Shindo insisted. “Talking about our pain and shit, then you pull a stunt like that?”

Izuku’s response was an incredulous, “Uhh, you were gonna kill me?” And in all likelihood he still would, Izuku reminded himself.

“Deflect, deflect, deflect.” Each word was accompanied with a little wave of the gun in Shindo’s hand. Clearly gun safety was not a priority here. “This is why everyone hates you.”

Before he could continue his rant or do something more lethal with the gun, a pounding rumbled through the walls of the ice cream truck. Someone as knocking on the closed order window. “Yo, you open?” A woman’s voice demanded from outside.

For some reason, Shindo looked pleased by this development. “Okay.” He pointed the gun at Izuku before setting it down beside him, so he could stuff a gag in Izuku’s mouth. “You. Keep it shut. I really need this sale.” He went to the window, sliding it open. “Hello, ma’a— _whoa!_ ”

Izuku watched, bound and gagged, as Shindo as pulled bodily out of the truck through the window by a familiar pair of hands. A moment later, amidst rampant sniveling and grunting, came Uraraka’s voice. “You Shindo, you are under arrest.”

_Thank god._

***

Finally untied and sitting on the back of the ice cream truck, Izuku rubbed at his wrists and looked up at his friends. “Man, I am _so_ relieved you guys found me.” He paused. “Uh, actually…how _did_ you guys find me?”

Shouto was leaning with his back against the door of the truck, arms crossed as he tilted his head and gave Izuku a look. “You hadn't done anything super annoying to us for, like, five hours, so we knew something was wrong.”

“Welp,” Izuku grimaced. “I’m a little offended, but I can’t deny the accuracy.”

Ochako continued. “We looked through those irritating selfies you sent us, and in the background of three of them was an ice cream truck.”

“We ran the plates and put out an APB. Wasn’t too hard after that.” Shouto sighed, heaving himself away from the truck to stand beside Ochako. “...sorry we doubted you.”

Izuku shook his head a little too fast. “No, _I'm_ the one who’s sorry. I don’t know why I have so much trouble believing people actually have my back.” He scratched his head sheepishly. “Might have something to do with my dad abandoning me. Maybe something I should work out in therapy, but... who has an hour to spare once every two weeks, right?” They just stared at him. “Heh. Right, anyway, I'm sorry I acted like a jackass.” 

Ochako gave him a hand and pulled him off the back of the truck to stand beside them, laughing a little. “Wow, Midoriya, you're so sincere since you got off coke.”

“And meth,” Izuku reminded her, playing along. “That was the hard one to kick.”

“No, the hard one to kick is angel dust.” Shindo was still on his ass with his hands cuffed behind him, bemoaning his fate. “Which is why I am _locked in_ for life.”

***

“Hey, guys.” Eijirou ventured up to Kami and Sero’s desks, a little apprehensive. The duo looked up at him blankly.

“Yesh?” Kaminari said through a mouthful of what was either licorice or rubber bands from the ball he’d seen earlier. Eijirou didn’t want to know.

“I double checked your evidence,” he said cautiously. “Everything looks good. I gotta say...you guys are actually good cops.”

Whatever was in Kami’s mouth, he swallowed it. _Please be licorice_. “Uhhh, sorry, dude, but… _duh_ ,” Kaminari quipped, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Eijirou stared at him, a bit taken aback. “What?”

“How do you think we’ve managed to stay here for so long?”

“Honestly, I just assumed one of you had family in upper management.” Eijirou shrugged. He certainly hadn’t thought it was for _merit_. As far as he was aware, despite their lack of advanced age or skill, Kami and Sero were the longest standing members with the precinct. They were here before him, and Sarge had said even he was newer than the “Idiot Duo” was.

“Leave my cousin out of this,” Sero muttered.

Right, okay. “Anyway, I'm sorry for calling you useless. I'm gonna make sure everyone knows you did good.” He turned to walk away, only to find himself unable to go any further.

The two men had jolted from their chairs before he’d managed to take a single step and were now blocking his way to the rest of the bullpen. “Uhhh…”

“Kiri, _please don't_ ,” Sero begged.

“ _Don't?_ ” Eijirou was beyond confused.

“The last thing we need is to suddenly be on everyone's A list.” Kami shrugged. “The best I ever did was B’s anyway.”

“Dude, I was thinking C‘s. Put us on the C list,” Sero suggested with a nod of approval from Kaminari.

“I’m allergic to responsibility,” Kami complained. “And all that investigating was exhausting. We did our fair share of when we first got to the precinct, so…”

“So now we get to rest, do paperwork in our comfy chairs,” Sero finished. “Besides, if we're away from our desks for too long, they'll update our computers, and we'll lose Minesweeper.”

“You suck at Minesweeper,” Kami reminded him.

“Says the guy who literally just picks random squares,” Sero retorted before turning back to Eijirou. “So please, don't tell anyone about the amazing work we did today.”

Eijirou sighed. “I never said ‘amazing’, guys. You kind of just did your jobs.” He paused. “You know, like everyone does? Like you’re supposed to?” Now that he thought about it, he was just getting annoyed again.

“There ya go,” Kami nodded, giving Eijirou an approving wink.

“No, really, though,” Eijirou warned, “you also broke a window today. Pretty much on purpose.”

Sero gave him a thumbs-up. “Now you get it.”

Eijirou was going to drink some calming tea and try not to tear his hair out. It’d be a pity since he just got his roots touched up.

***

“Your suspension has been lifted, Midoriya.”

Izuku stood in Aizawa’s office, trying not to be too smug for someone who had literally _just_ gotten his job back. “Great news, sir!” He crossed his arms, trying to contain his glee. “But now I believe it’s time for the traditional handing back of gun and badge to the vindicated hero ceremony.” He called over his shoulder. “Ready, everyone?”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes as detectives began to fill his office. Eijirou came up and slapped Izuku on the back, looking even happier to see him than usual, if that was possible. Izuku would have to ask him about that, but for now, the room waited expectantly for the captain to speak.

“I don't have your gun or your badge,” Aizawa stated, voice flat. “You’ll need to print out a new form to take to Hagakure down in the equipment room to retrieve your things there.”

“I'm sorry, but that's unacceptable.” Izuku said, barely suppressing a grin as Aizawa continued to glare at him.

“Come on, Captain!” Eijirou piped up. “I need this. We _all_ need this!”

Several voices rose to agree and add to his plea, causing a clamor of dissent to rise throughout the room. The captain looked seconds away from murder.

 _“Play along,”_ Izuku mouthed at him.

Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Fine. _Fine_. If this will make you happy…” He abruptly pulled his own gun out of its holster, plucking the badge off his chest and slamming both down on his desk with satisfying finality. “I believe these belong to you,” he announced brusquely. “Welcome back, detective.”

The room erupted into applause. Izuku’s smug smile as going to swallow his face. He’d be lucky if Aizawa didn’t put him on desk duty for the next week out of sheer pettiness. He had to cash in all his melodramatics now.

“Thank you, sir. Good to _be_ back. But as I've said before, _the system stinks_ , and this isn't over.” He turned to the crowd behind him and raised a commanding fist in the air. “ _I say we march down to city hall!_ ”

Aizawa had had enough. “Get out of my office.”

“Yep. Gone.” Izuku gave a mocking salute and scurried out of the room with everyone else. Back to business as usual.

***


End file.
